


The Scent of Jasmine

by pagan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-worker/Office, EWE, F/M, Friendship, Post-Hogwarts, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-07
Updated: 2012-11-07
Packaged: 2017-11-18 03:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/556633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagan/pseuds/pagan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco wonders if his business partner is really thinking about the business or something else altogether …</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of Jasmine

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. 
> 
> **Beta Readers:** MiHnn
> 
>  **Author Notes:** I wrote this when I was working and living in the Middle East, around March 2011, at the height of the Arab Spring (riots, protests, etc in Yemen, Oman, Egypt, Jordan). That prompted me to write a story that wove in what was happening then in the Middle East. It didn’t really turn out the way I wanted it to (Hermione was originally supposed to be protesting in Tahrir Square in Cairo with the protestors, Draco swoops in to save her – but my brain dried up!), but I hope it’s still a readable piece of work. Written for the HV A Decade Later: The Anniversary Challenge. The prompts:  
>  Dr Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction  
> Witch Weekly’s Most Charming-Smile-Award  
> Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers  
> Drowning Our Romantic Sorrows.

**20 December 2010**

“Oof!” Draco exclaimed as he hefted the heavy bag of potions ingredients onto the big partners’ desk that dominated the room. He glanced at his partner; sitting at her side of the desk with a mug of steaming tea beside her, she seemed not to have noticed his entrance and was totally engrossed in the newspaper (Muggle, he noted) in front of her.

Walking around to read over her shoulders (he was curious as to what she was so avidly interested in; he could see her eyes leaping over the page as she read), he saw “ _Riots reported in Tunisian city_ ”.

“What’s happening in Tunisia?” He leaned over her left shoulder, swatting at the shock of hair that had somehow escaped the messy bun she had twisted her curls into; it was blocking his view of the rest of the article. 

“Oh,” Hermione replied, tapping her fingernail against her mug of tea, “it seems they’re having some protests there. Some chap immolated himself to protest the current government and it sparked off a widespread series of street protests and demonstrations.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hmm, sounds serious.” He leaned even closer to try and read what was in the paper, resting his hand on the table beside hers. “Isn’t Potter on holiday over there? I recall you telling me he wanted to visit North Africa and the Middle East: Egypt, Jordan, Tunisia. He’s in Tunisia, isn’t he?”

She took a sip of her tea. “Mmm, yes, Harry’s there.”

“Hope he has the brains to get the hell out of Tunisia before anything starts happening,” he replied, leaning back and moving to his side of the desk to unpack the ingredients he had just brought in.

She gave him a strange look, as if suddenly noticing the big bag he’d left on their shared table. “What have you got there, Malfoy?”

“These, my dear Granger, are the ingredients for the new potion that will make us _the_ most famous potion makers ever to grace the hallowed halls of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers. Think of it – your picture and mine mounted in gold frames, six feet high, soft lighting surrounding it.”

She frowned. “I thought we agreed to scratch the idea of the breast enlargement potions. Draco, we –”

He ignored her protest and cut in. “It’ll be perfect, Granger. Unlike the enlargement charms, which just _look_ real, these will _feel_ real–“

She interrupted with a derisive snort. “Why don’t we do one for penile enlargements then?”

He grinned. “Nothing’s stopping us, Granger. You can test out the breast enlargement first to see if it works –”

“Are you saying that you’ll test out the one on penile enlargement?” She stared at him challengingly.

“Why should I? I’ve had no complaints so far regarding _my_ size.” He smirked at her. “Would you like to see? Perhaps touch it and confirm for yourself?” He leered at her, putting his hands on his belt buckle as if intending to whip it off and strip right there and then. 

She threw her hands up and walked towards him. “Why did I ever agree to start up a business with you?”

“Because, apart from the fact that I am a damn good Potions Master, I’m also the one with the looks, and we’ll need that together with my charming personality to get investors for our business.” He grinned again at her look of disgust at his statement. “Plus, who else would be willing to put up with you, bushy hair and all? Ouch, woman, that hurt! Is your elbow made of steel?” He rubbed his tummy and glared at Hermione for the hard jab. 

She glared right back.

 

**30 December 2010**

He entered their shared office and noticed Hermione in her usual seat with her eyes glued to a Muggle newspaper. A different paper from the previous one, but the news in it must be something really interesting for she did not greet him with her usual line of _Ugh, must I be inflicted with that smarmy smile every morning?_

“Granger,” he said as he walked towards her, “what did I tell you about working on your manners?” 

Her head snapped up. She frowned. 

He continued blithely, “We’ve been working together for three years and you’re still unable to grasp the finer points of polite behaviour. You’re supposed to greet your partner when he comes in, especially one as good looking as I am. Tsk tsk.”

“Go away, Draco, and take your smarmy smile with you.” She scowled at him and turned her attention back to the newspaper.

“Ah, something different this morning, I see. Though you must admit, you are one lucky witch. It’s not every female upon whom I bestow this award-winning smile,” he informed her loftily, swinging his leather laptop briefcase onto the desk as he stopped in front of her. 

He didn’t own a laptop, but the briefcase was aesthetically pleasing as well as functional, _and_ it was a present from Granger last Christmas. The briefcase was a Tumi, she’d told him, though for the life of him he didn’t know what a Tumi was: some Muggle animal they skinned for its leather? She had laughed out loud when he’d asked her that, but had refused to explain, leaving him still wondering. She did however buy him an accompanying wallet, solemnly telling him another Tumi animal was sacrificed in honour of their friendship. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking the newspaper out and laying it on the desk. “Oh please, don’t start with your speech on how you’re the five-time recipient of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award. It’s too early for me to spill hot tea on your lap and claim it’s an accident. Besides, we have that meeting with the investors this morning. Wouldn’t want you going around with a big yellow stain on your trousers, now would I? They might think you’ve got problems in _that_ area.” She smirked at him.

He raised a brow. He knew she hated it when he did that. “Granger, I’m touched you even care. My _package_ , as it is, is in prime working condition. Care to try it out? Satisfaction guaranteed.” He leered and wiggled his hips at her for extra effect.

She shook her head. “It’s a good thing we’re friends and I know how childish you can get with your jokes.”

He grinned. “Who says I’m joking? And its six by the way; I’ve won that award six times.” He picked up the papers. “Hmm. _Major Protests in Algeria; Self-immolations; Riots_. It’s another major protest in another North African country. Potter seems to be a bringer of bad luck.”

She stiffened. “Why do you say that?” she asked, somewhat defensively in his opinion.

“Well, including Tunisia, that’s two countries he’s visited and they both, within days of each other, started rioting and protesting. Looks like there’ll be a revolution soon, from what the papers say.” He tossed the newspaper back onto the table.

“These protests,” she replied quietly, “are because the people are unhappy with the current government, who, if the reports are to be believed, have been in power for far too long and are only in it for their own benefit. Employment levels are low, minimum wages are lower still and the government officials are corrupt. From what I see, they are demanding for a change, for something better.”

He stared at her.

 **19 January 2011**

“Drowning our romantic sorrows, are we, Granger? And what is that you’re drinking? Tea? That’s not the right libation for a heartbreak.” 

“Oh, go away, Malfoy,” Hermione replied grumpily as she put down the cup she was lifting to her lips.

“So,” Draco continued as he slid into the seat next to Hermione’s at the pub where they usually go for lunch, “I heard you broke up with _whatsisname_. Goldstein.” 

She gave him a tired look. “For the umpteenth time, Anthony was not my boyfriend. Ergo, we did not _break up_. We only went out on three dates. We felt we didn’t suit and so we didn’t go any further.” She fiddled with the newspaper in front of her before turning to wave at the waitress. “What are you having? The usual?”

He pulled the papers towards him almost absentmindedly as he flipped through the menu. “Think I’ll try the curry today. And in honour of your breakup, a lager to go with it. You’ll need one too.” He grinned unrepentantly at her. 

She shook her head, obviously half amused at what she thought was his insistence that she was in the doldrums because of Goldstein. He was actually celebrating her _single-again_ status. With its return, their tradition of spending their nights together after work either at a movie or a dinner was reinstated. He couldn’t deny that he had felt left out when Hermione had started going out with Goldstein. It had irked him that someone else was spending what he felt was rightfully _his_ time alone with Hermione outside of work. He didn’t, however, want to delve too deeply into the reasons why. He was half afraid that he actually possessed some romantic feelings towards her. He blamed it on propinquity. He had spent too many hours in close proximity with the witch: close enough to smell the shampoo she used and to feel the warmth emanating from her body when she moved to sit or stand beside him; to be charmed by that bushy hair; to be attracted to her intelligence and addicted to her company. 

He inwardly sighed: bugger it all, he _liked_ her. _A lot._

He glanced at the papers: _Minor protests and demonstrations in Amman_. “Is it just me, or do you think the Middle East is having a strange upheaval in its politics? There are demonstrations in Jordan.”

She shrugged. “People want change.”

“Didn’t you say Potter was moving on to Jordan to see Petra or something?” he asked.

“Yes.” She nodded and turned to the waitress to put in an order for his curry, two Pilsners and a Sheppard’s Pie for herself. 

He stared at her. When the waitress left, he said, “And now there are protests and calls for reform in Jordan. They say it’s likely the King will dismiss the Prime Minister and the Cabinet.” A sudden, uneasy thought crossed his mind. “Did you say when Potter got out of Tunisia?”

“I didn’t actually.” She started picking at the coaster in front of her, avoiding his gaze. 

“Hmm, Potter seems to be a magnet for trouble. First, it was Tunisia. Then it was Algeria. And now, it’s Jordan. Strange, isn’t it?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

She leaned forward, looked him in the eye and laid her hand on his. “I don’t find calls for better leadership strange. Change is always inevitable, Draco.”

Her pronouncement sounded portentous; was she talking about the Middle East or something else?

He glanced again at the newspaper, trying to ignore the feel of her palm on his hand. In the far-left corner, something else caught his eye. _Major protests in Oman_. “Did Potter say he wanted to visit Oman as well?” 

“Why do you ask?” She leaned back and removed her hand from his as the waitress set their drinks on the table.

“Just wondering,” he replied nonchalantly, but he had a niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach that Granger knew more than she was letting on. 

 

**28 January 2011**

“Do I look like I’ve doused myself with Dr. Ubbly’s Oblivious Unction?” He glared at his partner. She seemed unperturbed by his sudden display of temper after he’d read in the Muggle newspapers that Egyptians were camping out in Tahrir Square in Cairo demanding for the resignation of their long-time leader, President Hosni Mubarak. “Granger, anyone with half a brain would question this. Tell me, what is Potter doing in the Middle East? In North Africa? He’s stirring up revolutions, isn’t he? How are _you_ involved in all of this?”

“What on earth are you on about, Malfoy? First you insinuate that he was stirring things up in Tunisia, _then_ he somehow miraculously ended up in Oman and Algeria. How can he be in different places all at once?” She gave him a contemptuous look. 

He took note she didn’t deign to acknowledge his question about her involvement, if any. 

He returned her look with one of equal measure. “Merlin, Granger,” he replied sarcastically, “he’s a wizard. It’s called Apparating. What are you, stupid?”

She bristled and her face turned red. “What are you, five? Resorting to name calling. You’re an idiot.”

He rolled his eyes at that before reaching out to grab her arms and shake her. “Tunisia managed to get rid of its president in mid-January through its revolution. Yes, the president deserved to be ousted and the country deserves to be given a chance to grow. But then Algeria, Oman and Jordan had demonstrations, all premised on lousy governments with no care as to the populace: low employment rates, high cost of living, high levels of corruption. And now Egypt’s having its own revolution. Mubarak’s been up there for decades and they want him out.” He was suddenly worried sick that she was somehow up to her ears in insurgent movements across the globe. Merlin!

He released her and raked his hands through his hair. “Tell me _you_ have nothing to do with this. That Potter has nothing to do with it. That fool has been flitting around complaining that he’s got nothing left to do ever since he rounded up the last of the Death Eaters and sent them all to Azkaban. He’s got a bloody hero complex the size of the Atlantic and I know he’s been going on and on about dictators and life-long presidents recently and comparing them to Voldemort. But this – this – whatever this is – is ridiculous!”

He swung back to face her. She was gnawing on her bottom lip, a sure sign she was thinking. He waited. He could outwait Granger, who, though prudent in most things, was a Gryffindor at heart and took big risks like the rest of them. Calculated risks, hence the lip abuse, but risks all the same. 

She sighed, and he knew his patience had paid off. “Okay,” she said, “I admit that Harry is sometimes rather too enthusiastic about his role as the saviour of the world, but you have to understand. These countries were suffering from so many economic and political woes. They needed change. Harry is just there participating in the change.”

“Self-immolations?” he asked derisively.

“Of course he didn’t encourage or even suggested it! You ought to know better, Draco!” She sounded indignant. 

He stared at her.

She sighed again. “Look, Draco. Harry is there in an – an advisory capacity, if you will. He knows what pressure points to push, how to make people listen. He was a boy when all of us followed him!” she cried. “Think how much more influence and persuasion he wields now as an adult.” 

He snorted.

She reached out and touched his arm. “The wizarding communities there invited him over when they felt the winds of change coming on. You’ve read about the Muggle powers that be in Tunisia, Algeria and Egypt. Unlike in Europe, the magical communities there have been oppressed and subject to so many laws governing their use of magic. Because of the recurring pockets of unrest, the economic challenges, the general dissatisfaction of the Muggle public with their governments, the wizards knew something big was about to sweep over North Africa and the Middle East, and any change would impact _them_. They wanted his help, his advice.”

“This is Potter we’re talking about.” Disbelief coloured his words.

She glared at him and released her hold on his arm. “Grow up, Draco. You know Harry’s been involved in international relations ever since the war trials ended. He’s got a knack of getting people to listen to him, and that was what was needed. Besides, the protests in Egypt are peaceful.”

He sighed. He knew what Potter had done when faced with these invitations; it was inevitable. The man had been holding onto Granger for intellectual support for years. “And he sought your advice before going, on what your thoughts were on these countries.” 

She nodded. “Yes.”

He had to know. “Why didn’t you go with him?” She was famous for championing the under-privileged, fighting to obtain justice for all. This was _her_ cup of tea.

She looked surprised. “I did think about it, but I couldn’t leave you.” She reached for his hand this time; gave it a quick squeeze before letting go. “I have responsibilities and obligations here. When I signed up to start this partnership with you, I told you you’ll be getting all of me.”

That assuaged his angry feelings somewhat. He raised an eyebrow and gave a lecherous leer. “ _All_ of you, eh?” he asked, half-jokingly. 

She flushed and looked embarrassed. “Don’t be an idiot. You know what I meant.”

He nodded; all of her time, her skill, her intelligence. “Where’s he headed to next?” he asked, resigned to the fact that Hermione was helping out Potter, though in a somewhat restricted manner.

“Well, he’ll probably stay on in Egypt till they can get Mubarak to step down. It’s early days yet. Then with the Egyptian Minister for Magic, he’ll meet with the new leader. After that, he’ll probably come home.” She turned away from him to give her attention to the papers she was reviewing before he came bursting in. 

As he stared at her back, a horrible realisation came over him: he was angry and worried because he cared, _deeply_ , about her. It was the thought that she could have packed up and left to join Potter that had shaken him. 

And it was her admission that she had stayed on, in part because of him, that made him hope fervently to be able to have _all_ of her someday. 

**14 February 2011**

“Are those lotuses?” Draco asked as he walked into the office, staring at a big bowl full of what looked like large, showy flowers resembling water lilies set on his side of the desk.

Hermione nodded, somewhat shyly in his estimation.

“Are they for me?” he asked, reaching out to touch one.

She blushed and nodded again. “Yes. Happy Valentine’s, Draco.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Lotuses for Valentine’s. That’s new.” He walked closer to her. “I take it that it’s also to commemorate Potter’s success in Egypt?”

She grinned. “Somewhat. It’s their national flower. I couldn’t find any jasmines.” 

“Ah, just as well. I don’t really fancy the scent of jasmines.” He walked closer to her. “Perhaps we should have dinner tonight. You know, celebrate Potter’s success,” he proposed, looking at her keenly.

“Perhaps,” she returned, but with a slight smile. 

“I read today’s news that Gaddafi’s fighting to stay on for all he’s worth. I take it Potter’s moved on to Libya?”

She nodded. “He called last night. He may be gone for quite a while.”

“So, dinner?” he asked again, hoping she’d say yes. 

She took a deep breath. “Is dinner just to celebrate what Harry’s managed to accomplish, or is it something more?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated, chancing a look at her. She stared back steadily, but there was a look of hopeful anticipation in her eyes. “Only if you want it to be,” he said quietly. “Do you?”

She smiled warmly and nodded. “I know it may be a bit strange, us trying to date and work together at the same time but – ”

“Granger, it’s us. I think we know each other well enough to not worry about how this might affect business. Besides, it won’t be that much different from all the time we’ve spent together the past three years outside of work.” He looked at her slyly. “Well, maybe with the exception that I can now snog you senseless whenever I want and not get slapped. You, my dear Granger, are disgustingly strong.”

She laughed out loud. “It’s all in the wrist, Draco.”

“Hmm, maybe you could show me some wrist action later tonight.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “My place. We can have dessert then.”

She grinned as she walked up to him. “That’s not a bad idea. I was hoping to get you all to myself tonight.”

He raised a brow, surprised and just a little bit excited at what she said. “Oh. Really? And why is that?” He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her to him. 

She smirked and tapped a finger on his chest. “You recall that enlargement potion we’ve been talking about?” He nodded. “Well, I’ve actually done some research on this Muggle drug called Viagra, and I think you might like the results.”

His eyes opened wide in surprise. “You mean you’ll try the breast enlargement potion? Tonight?”

“No.” She grinned. “I meant I’ve tweaked the penile enlargement potion and I’ve given it, ahem, staying power, as it were. You game to try it?”

“Are you propositioning me, Granger?” he asked as he lowered his head towards hers. 

She gave a shrug and then lifted both hands to his shoulders to urge him closer. He didn’t need any further encouragement as he brushed his lips across hers. He heard her give a soft sigh as she said, “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he queried as he kissed her again, slower and deeper this time. 

When he raised his head, they were both breathing hard and Granger had a flush on her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “It depends on whether you’re willing to sacrifice yourself upon the altar of science. You know, for the greater good of all witches everywhere.”

He grinned in response. 

_Finis_


End file.
